Brother, Slave, Pet
by SnowStormSkies
Summary: AU/WIP Two boys go head-to-head over archaic traditions. One black haired green eyed boy is the prize. Who will win and who will lose, when one had nothing to lose but the other has everything to lose? Slash DMHP, DMHPBZ, Abuse, Non-con...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Brother, Slave, Pet

**Author:** SnowStormSkies _(AKA Lixi-Des)_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters, the settings, the spells, enchantments or the designations of characters. They're Rowling's and Bloomsbury publishing's. I own anything else defined in the disclaimer, including OCs and own settings. These include the plotline, and the invented phrases, the spells not marked with an asterisk, any and all OCs.

**Universe:** Harry Potter

**Theme/Topic:** Slavery, abuse, dominance, submission, hurt/comfort...oh for Christ's sake just read the warnings. So much easier....

**Rating:** M. Minimum age should be sixteen. It's quite severely hardcore and macabre in later chapters.

**Characters:** Oh Christ....here we go....Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Blaise Zambini, Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Edgeworth Potter, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Fillus Flitwick, Poppy Promfrey, Ollivander, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Lily and James Potter and finally an OC, Edgeworth Potter. And I ain't writing any more. If you find them, you mark up in your mind...

**Spoilers: **Umm...Basically all the books. If you haven't read them by now, you're too damn late and you really shouldn't be reading a fanfiction archive for Harry Potter. If you get spoiled then it's your fault.

**Pairings:** Harry/Edgeworth, Harry/Draco, Dean/Seamus, Blaise/Draco, Blaise/Harry/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa, and still more. .Ha. Change of plans here, old chums. And there was I all set up for a mass orgy and having a grand time making Harry all their little whore...and the ol' muse has to go changing my story line. Bloody sent the whole thing up in smoke that did. Ruined my nice plot line. Still, new pairings, new rules. The version will have changed as well. Not much, but it will alter the entire plot so read the changed version! I am warning you, it will make little sense to you in the future if you do not. I tell you, it will not. Still, want can you do, eh? What the muse wants....

**Warnings: **Err...Let's see...incest, torture, abuse, toys, Bestiality, Mpreg, Blood play, D/s relationship, Cross dressing, Paedophilia, Drug abuse, Bondage, Fetishes of various types, Double penetration of a sort, Fisting, Humiliation, Hand Jobs and Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bad Language, Mind control of variations, Threesomes, Moresomes, Non/Consent, Dubious/Consent, Exhibitionism, Voyeurs, Oral Sex, Rimming, S&M type relationships, Slavery, Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Male Masturbation, Spanking, Violence In the Extreme, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexuality, BDSM, Body Modification, Wet Dreaming....

**Word Count: **5,517 words

**Time:** Two days. I had to refine it/spell-check it.

**Summary: **Two boys go head-to-head over archaic traditions. One has the prize, the other wants the prize. One black haired green eyed boy is the prize. For the right to protect or the right to own? Who will win and who will lose, when one had nothing to lose but the other has everything to lose? Then the others find out and it all goes downhill from there.

**Dedication:** Nobody. At the moment.

**A/N: **Err...The work of a sick mind. If I want to know my own mind this is what I get. Can you imagine the fun I'm going to have now? I'm meant to be doing essays. Instead I'm writing the prelude to my debut into the written porn industry. I love my mind right now... Blimey I've never written such a long list of warnings, though, in all my life over a single story...Well...I'll try my best to live up to them....All forty or so of them... Wish me luck! I'm pretty much planning on doing about twenty chapters on this. Bare in mind this does skip from first to sixth year pretty quick. It's so I don't have to fill in ninety pages of complete crap. I hate that, because I never can make them as good as the books. So I am trying to stop that and just missing it all out. You should pretty much know what went down in the intervening years, though, and any changes will be explained. I think though that's pretty much along the lines of the main story lines. Much of it will be explained in later chapters. ...I seem to be using that phrase a lot today.... 666 words of ANs. GO ME! FALSE DEVIL!

**Distribution:** No. You can't have it. It's mine. You are not allowed to post it else where. It is mine and if you take it without my permission that is plagiarism and I will find it. On the other hand, if you find it anywhere else, feel free to warn me and you get cookies!

* * *

**Brother, Slave, Pet**

**~*~****  
**

Draco Malfoy was bored. Simple as that. All those Mudbloods queuing up to be Sorted, looking so scared. Please. Draco had known how the Sorting went from his father's tales from days at Hogwarts. All these Mudbloods were just terrified for no fucking reason and to be honest he was sick of it. But as McGonagall had said, cursing another student was certain to come under a heading of "bad behaviour". Pity though...

But this year, there was a surprise. The Boy-Who-Lived was coming to Hogwarts. The boy who saved Wizarding England was coming to Hogwarts and word had it, was bringing a surprise. Strange. No-one else knew what it was, though not through lack of trying. Draco had spent the train ride with the other Pureblood children, and a good portion of said train journey was consumed with guessing about the Boy-Who-Lived and his surprise. Pansy remained convinced it was the Soul of Voldemort, to which Draco had snorted and called her a moron. Voldemort's Soul fled the night of his Slaying, so how could the Boy-Who-Lived be bringing it to Hogwarts? No, Draco like his father had refrained from playing guessing games and had merely decided to see what happened. Draco lived for the moment and his father's most often used saying was "What comes, comes and there is nothing you can do if you can't do anything about it." His father in a nut shell really.

Finally it was Draco's turn to be Sorted. He didn't even need to have the Hat properly placed on his head to know he was Slytherin. His family nearly always was. Either that or rarely Ravenclaw. More Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers were sorted, including a red-headed boy (no doubt a Weasley) and then the name was called – "Potter, Edgeworth". Dear Gods, he did look like such a Gryffindor, swaggering up the steps like he owned the place. Draco snorted. He could have called out the House before the Hat and sure enough it came – _"GRYFFINDOR!"_ Whatever. Draco was half inclined to wave his hand and shout "Next!" Now wouldn't that cause a stir?

The next name did cause a stir however... "Harry." Wait? _What?!_ Who?! Another Potter? He had to be, to have been announced so close to the last one. But what happened to a last name? Oh dear...But wait, surely it might be a coincidence..._Right_...Two boys next to each other. One without a surname right next to each other...They had to be siblings. That was the way with the Sortings. Funny though. He didn't think the Boy-Who-Lived had a twin. He watched intently as the boy in question climbed up the steps. Such a poor specimen, Draco thought dispassionately, short, with messy hair. His robes looked _far_ too big and as for the cloak...Draco didn't think it bore thinking about. It seemed odd that one child would be dressed like a Lord and the other like a pauper. Still, Potter's always were strange and not a little eccentric. Though this boy didn't look in the least like a twin.

Sat on the stood in front of the entire school, Harry Potter looked mighty uncomfortable. Where would he end up? was the question on everyone's lips.

**Harry's POV**

**~*~  
**

Everyone was looking at him, all staring like he had an extra head or something. Then the Hat was placed over his eyes and a Voice echoed around his brain. "Good evening Young Master Harry." It said. It sounded like such a no nonsense Voice. But kind too.

"Good Evening" He whispered.

"Let's see...we need to place you. But where?" The Hat seemed to be rummaging in his brain, his memories flashing before his eyes. "Oh dear..."

Harry bowed his head as the Hat pulled up memory after memory, starting with a training regime, from the summer. It was old, faded, the passage of time dulling it before it's time. It was like watching in sepia. Through old and dirty glass.

**~*~**

**START FLASHBACK**

**~*~**

"_Run harder!" Sunshine blazed down on Harry as he pushed himself to the limit, trying to complete this lap. It was his forty third of the family field, and his lungs burned, his legs ached and his head hurt like hell. His older brother followed behind him on a broomstick, lazily drifting along. "Alright. You can stop."_

_Panting Harry collapsed into a heap, only to find a foot placed on his ribs and pressed down hard. He couldn't breathe; he could feel the world dissolving into darkness and pain. Suddenly the pressure released and Harry could breathe again. He opened his eyes and found out why. The sun had vanished behind a large rain cloud and drops of rain were starting to fall. His brother looked down at him. "I'm going to ask Dad about what to do with you." He looked up. "Stay here."_

_Harry curled up in a ball and waited. It was cold rain and his clothes, only a pair of thin cotton trousers and a vest of the same material were soon soaked and freezing against his skin. He wore no shoes and no underwear. He didn't dare move._

_Time passed, a minute, an hour, he didn't know. It was cold and Harry was so tired...He fell asleep there in the middle of the field, right underneath a ferocious thunderstorm. The next thing he heard was, "Get up." His father, James Potter was standing there, still dry despite the rain and wind. A Stay-Dry charm then. Harry stood on tired, aching legs, tucking his hands down by his side. "You did not complete the laps I set you. The laps I set you as punishment for defiance of your mother's orders. The one's she gave you to protect your brother from danger. You did not complete the punishment I gave you.."_

"_N-n-no, Sir" Harry shook and shivered as the rain came down even harder. Like little hard pellets._

"_Why not?"_

"_I-I-I was too t-tired-"_

"_You were too weak. Your brother does not submit to weakness. He does not allow himself to become tired." The fire in James's eyes flared, "Your brother took down the Dark Lord. He has a far greater burden that you. And yet you still continue to fail. And be weak."_

"_Yes, Sir. Sorry Sir."_

"_Tomorrow you will run one hundred laps. You will not submit to tiredness or weakness. I shall be out here, to make sure you do not. And you will receive twenty strokes of Bloodletter to ensure you remember your lesson, to be delivered in the morning, before dawn. Today, you will remain outside for a further two hours or until I am content that you are significantly repentant. Do you understand why I am giving you this punishment?"_

"_Yes Sir."_

"_Explain."_

"_I am still too weak and not able to stand at my brother's side. I have failed in the punishment given to me. I must be punished again because of this. I must remember my lesson and I must remember that I am not worthy of being at my brother's side if I cannot take pain without expression or fear. Every punishment given to me is for my own benefit, to improve and better me." He looked up through his eyelashes at his father, tall against the deep purple-green sky._

"_Say your vows. Properly, with the correct position."_

_Harry sunk to his knees, his thighs protesting. His stomach growled but the storm hid the noise. He had not eaten in a week, as part of his punishment for not being there to help his brother. He had been too slow, too stupid not to be there, at his brother's side when _Edgeworth_ had been attacked by a boggart in the Attic. Although _Edgeworth_ had suffered no ill effects, it was a serious failing his duty as his brother's loyal servant. It was unusual to be assigned as such, but he was unworthy of being anything else. _Edgeworth_ had taken down the Dark Lord and compared to him, Harry was nothing. A speck of dust to _Edgeworth_'s diamond brilliance._

"_I swear to be good to my family and to my brother. I swear to be loyal to him. I swear to give up anything I can to help him, to give him the best chance at anything he needs. I swear to give up my life if it is necessary, to preserve his. I swear to follow him, to be a loyal servant and to anticipate his needs and desires. I swear to protect him to the best of my meagre ability. I swear to not stand in his way when he is pursuing something. I swear never to steal his rightful place or possessions. I swear never to fall in love, nor father a child. I swear never to leave him, in this life or the next."_

"_Good." Now for the next part of the vows, "Will you ever leave him?"_

"_Not for the flesh, nor for money nor for magic nor position." The next was the hardest part._

"_Will you ever fall in love or have a child?"_

"_Not if I was tempted by the Morrigan. My loyalty to my brother is the only love I shall need, the only thing I shall nurture as if it were a child."_

"_Will you ever steal from him?" James's eyes burned still brighter._

"_Not his possessions, his moneys, nor his position."_

"_Will you stand in his way?"_

"_Not for the Flesh, nor moneys, nor magic nor position."_

"_Will you protect him?" James's fists were clenched tight. Harry wondered why._

"_To the best of my meagre ability, with all my magic and physical ability, though they be weak and small compared to his." Harry wondered why James's fists looked like that._

"_Do you swear to follow him?"_

"_Though the years. Through fire or ice, come high water or when the earth shakes beneath my feet. "_

"_Do you swear to be loyal to him?_

"_I swear to always follow him, to be loyal to him and his cause whatever it may be."_

"_Do you swear to anticipate his needs and desires?"_

"_Each and everyone of them and to fulfil them to the best of my ability._

"_Do you swear to give up your own life?"_

"_To save my brother's or if he desires it of me." Harry always shivered at that one._

"_Do you swear to give up anything to help him?"_

"_I swear to give up possession or magic, to give him the best chance at everything."_

"_Do you swear to be loyal to only him?_

"_I swear I shall follow no other, in this life, and in the next." Harry could feel himself sinking further into the mud._

_James spoke the last vow, with livid flames in his eyes. "Do you swear to be good to him?"_

"_In speech and in thought, in mannerisms and act I will be good to him." His vows concluded, James touched a hand to Harry's forehead. Nothing was there, though James still touched it every time Harry's vows were finished._

"_Good. Remember those vows." James took his hand away from Harry's head. "Your two hours start now. You may not move from this position." And with that, he turned and walked away, not looking back. At the son he'd just left there, kneeling in the pouring rain._

_Harry's bones ached, where they had broken. He had fixed them himself, under his mother's guidance. Someday, _Edgeworth_ might need the doctor more then he did with a broken arm, so they shouldn't call him unless it was absolutely necessary. To save the money. His cuts and bruises throbbed, reminders of what he had failed to do last time. It was a measly fifty laps when he had failed last time. He had gotten fifty strokes of Bloodletter, his father's snakeskin whip. "The only thing snakes were ever good for" James Potter always said. His stomach rumbled, he was so hungry...But he was being punished so all food was off-limits to him until it was over._

_He shivered in the cold and tried to forget his misery..._

**~*~**

**END FLASHBACK**

**~*~**

The memory was abandoned in favour of another. It was from only that morning, the memory fresh and vivid.

**~*~**

**START FLASHBACK**

**~*~**

"Get down here! Now!" Edgeworth Potter stood at the foot of the stairs, half dressed. Harry sat on the top step, on his hands waiting. He nearly flew down the steps and stood in front of his brother. "Why aren't you quicker?" Edgeworth said, bringing one hand up to slap the smaller boy on the cheek. He hit harder than usual, leaving a vivid burning handprint on one cheek. Edgeworth placed a finger under Harry's chin, looked at his handiwork and then slapped the other one, "You're lucky we're going to Hogwarts today, else I would've got Dad to punish you." Harry could feel the pain radiating across his face, especially when his brother's ring showing his position of heir had hit him on his cheekbone.

"Sorry, Master Edgeworth." Harry bowed his head. He was never fast enough; never perfect enough, never there to help on time. "Whatever." Edgeworth apparently lost interest. "Go get my trunks. They need to go in the blue car."

"Yes, Master Edgeworth." Harry dipped his head and headed up the stair, across the hall into Edgeworth's room. Lined with posters, books and the latest in games, not to mention clothes, it was by far a child's paradise. Harry picked up the first trunk, labelled in gold letters with E. Potter II. The second was just the same. Harry pulled the two trunks down the stairs and out onto the forecourt. The blue car, large and expensive was already in the forecourt, waiting for its passengers. Harry pulled the trunks over to the car, feeling the burn on already tender muscles. His training routines had seen to that, not to mention his sprained wrist, ankle and the last set of whipping cuts; sixty to make sure he remembered his vows at Hogwarts. As if he could forget them...

That done, he went back into the car and quickly and silently walked up the stairs into Edgeworth's bedroom. Harry walked around to the other side of the bed and packed up his bed mat for the first time in nearly nine years. Harry had to sleep near Edgeworth's side at all times to make sure of his brother's safety. An attack could happen at any time or any place, so it had to be this way. Harry had learnt to sleep lightly and to keep his mind ready at all times. He tied the strings which held it in a roll and picked up his books. Textbooks his mother had been given by the Longbottoms books and clothes from the same. He ran his hand over the covers; the insides almost falling out. He wrapped them in a square of sacking cloth and carried them downstairs. He ignored the thoughts of 'Why does Edgeworth get more than me?'

His mother had explained it all years before. Edgeworth was the Saviour, the perfect one. He needed far more because of that. So Edgeworth was kitted out, without fail, every season with a new wardrobe, and Harry received hand-me-down from other families. Families like the Weasley's and the Bones and the Longbottoms often sent clothes to his mother, to distribute to the needy children in the village a half mile away. Harry often got his clothes from those same donations, so the money that would have gone on him, would be used to help Edgeworth become the Boy-Who-Lived better. It would help him learn more, have access to better tutors. Harry learned from his mother and books. It was far better for Edgeworth to learn one-on-one with the tutors, and the money was needed for Edgeworth so Harry made do. That was the way it had to be. It was always so. It was always going to be so.

**~*~**

**END FLASHBACK**

**~*~**

"That's_ horrible_. That's _abusive._" The hat commented matter-of-factly.

"It is not. It's the way it has to be." Harry knew that was true. It was the way it had to be. It had always been that way, and it would continue to be that way until Harry died. It was just what happened. But, outside the world of his self-justifications, the Sorting Hat was talking again.

"I don't think I could place you anywhere else. I'll send you to Slytherin..."

"NO!" Harry felt like he was going to faint. "_No_! I can't be a Slytherin. My father would kill me." Not to mention his brother. He would be _crucified_, like a traitor. Slytherins were the lowest of the low, and even a Muggle would stand miles above the wants of a Slytherin. If Harry went there, he would not live past Christmas, regardless of his status.

"Are you sure?"

"It's for the best." Harry would follow Edgeworth. Wherever and through hell and high water.

"Very well. Gryffindor it is." The Hat seemed disappointed. "I warn you. I know where you truly belong and someday that will out."

"Then you're wrong." Harry thought as the Hat shouted Gryffindor. Nobody clapped. Nobody cheered. Harry handed back the Hat and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. His brother made a space for him and he sat down next to him. McGonagall carried on with the Sorting.

And all the while, a pair of steely blue eyes watched from across the hall.

Edgeworth's hand lifted Harry's plate from under his nose and placed it under his own. Harry looked down at the table, embarrassed. He would have thought his punishment would be over by now, but it seemed not. And everyone had to witness his brother dealing with it. He didn't look up for the rest of the meal and he stared at the table when everyone sang the school song. He followed Edgeworth up to the Tower, hand on wand, wary of all the other people hustling and bustling around him. He felt so small, standing a near head shorter than Edgeworth and being small-boned and skinny in the extreme besides. The other first years crowded around Edgeworth, who revelled in the attention. He met with several other pureblood children Harry recognised as Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and one of the Patil girls. Harry didn't know which.

The Prefect showed them how to get into the Common Room, showed them the Boys and the Girl's Dormitories and told them to go to bed. Harry was tired, so very tired. Edgeworth looked it too, as they and four other boys claimed the first room for their own. Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were thrilled when they found out who they were bunking with. The four of them were busy unpacking, placing clothes in drawers and unwrapping new quills and things when Edgeworth opened the door, Harry tailing along behind. Edgeworth lay back on the bed, Harry stood at his side while he waited for instructions. He did not expect someone to talk to him....

"Say, what did you say your name was again?" Dean asked Harry.

"Harry." His last name wasn't even Potter anymore. He was just Harry now. Literally. Part of his status in life...

"Cool. Are you his twin?"

"Merlin _no_." Edgeworth stopped Harry answering. "I'm nearly a year older."

"How'd that work out?" Dean put down the football he was holding.

"I'm born in September. The First as a matter of fact." Edgeworth smiled at the Chorus of Happy Birthdays he received. "He's born end of July." Harry could remember the discussions his parents had had over the circumstances of his birth. Ripped out of the womb at just twenty three weeks, Harry had been over three months early. A procedure that many had protested against, but his mother's oldest friend and confidant had told them it was okay to go ahead. The confidant, Albus Dumbledore had been on hand, along with Poppy Promfrey to administer the healing charms to repair the damage to his mother's skin. Harry himself had been left in St Mungo's until he was strong enough to survive without the oxygen tubes and the numerous potions he needed because he was so young. So _weak._ Harry had been just a year old when he left the hospital, a whole year after he had been born. His parents and Edgeworth had been under threat from Death Eaters, so Harry would have just weighed them down...

He found his bed roll, perched on the end of top of his brother's trunks, with his sacking parcel of books on top of it. His brother took the bed closest to the window, and waved Harry over. "I want you to sleep there." He pointed to the small gap between the wall and the bed, on the far side of the bed. It was maybe a foot wide, stretching to a foot and a half if he was lucky. He couldn't complain. It was bigger than what he had at home – thirteen inches were fine when you were standing. Lying down is a different matter entirely. Harry laid down his books and carefully stepped over the bed, making sure not to rumple the bedclothes. He laid out the bed roll he had slept in for over seven years now, the straw back filled with a thin layer of hay. It was more than enough for him. Stepping back over the bed, Harry felt more than saw the stares given to him by his brother's dorm mates.

"Why won't you sleep on the bed?" Dean Thomas asked, waving at it.

"He's a Gift, isn't he?" Neville Longbottom showed more intelligence than Harry had though. Obviously he had mis-judged the brunette boy.

"A what?" Seamus spoke up, his face set into a frown.

Instead of Neville this time, Ron Weasley showed his intellect. "A Gift...it's someone given to somebody to be their...well..._slave_ I guess. It's a life-long contract...designed to give somebody ultimate control over somebody else."

Neville rejoined with, "It's not illegal because you have to have special circumstances for it to happen. A Gift is usually given to pay off someone's debts...if a member of a family is given to the people they are in debt to...the debt is considered paid and the family member given away is called A Gift."

"In this case, he is not from a debtor's family at all..." Edgeworth curled his hand around the back of Harry's neck. "He's my ex-brother."

Dean looked shocked. "But why would...how?"

"Because," Edgeworth said, "He was stripped of his powers at birth and given to me." He smiled. "He would be too weak to take on anyone, so Dumbledore took his last bits of power and gave them to me. He performed the Rite, my parents consented and my baby brother is now my slave."

Seamus curled his lip slightly. "Why?"

"I already have seven brothers and nine sisters. My dear darling Harry here is the baby of the family. Or at least he would be if he wasn't my slave."

"What does he do then? What about when he practises magic?"

"I think you've forgotten what I just told you; he was stripped of his power. He can't use a wand. The only reason he's here is to serve me. He won't take part in lessons, he'll only take notes. He can't take part in the lessons because he has no magic. My brother will never ever use magic in any shape or form. He's mine now, and will be until the day he dies..."

"But what happens when he gets married, or wants children?" Dean spoke up looking annoyed with something.

"He won't. He'll never get married, never have a child, and never see another person as a lover, male or female. He's my slave and I'm not allowed to share him. Nor do I _want_ to as a matter of fact."

"Right." Seamus climbed into bed, his brilliant blue pyjamas bright against the red bedspread. Harry thought he looked angry, but over what?

Moving quickly, Harry opened his brother's first trunk and pulled out the first pair of pyjamas he could find; a pair of red silk ones. Then he found his brother's bad of wash things, and pulled out the toothbrush and toothpaste and his flannel. He gave them to his brother who, without even a glance or word of thanks, took them and departed to the bathroom. Harry pulled down the bedspread, folding it in readiness for his brother's return. Pillows fluffed, bedspread pulled down and the pitcher of water moved from the window to Edgeworth's bedside table, Harry stepped back to check what else needed doing. The fire! Quickly Harry opened the grate on the pot-belly stove in the middle of the room and check on it. He banked it, and shut the grate door again. Opened the window, and finally decided that that was everything and he could do no more without seriously disrupting things. The other four boys in the room were all staring at him as though he had just performed a really weird trick. But to Harry, that his normal routine, making the room ready for his brother's sleep.

It wasn't uncommon for Edgeworth to be in meetings with Albus Dumbledore for hours, until midnight if not more so Harry would just have to stay awake until then before he got to sleep. Sometimes Edgeworth would stay the night at Hogwarts with his parents, leaving Harry to wait up all night on the off chance he might return home in the early hours of the morning. But Harry knew he shouldn't object. After all, the meetings with Dumbledore were important; they made sure Edgeworth had the power to defeat anyone who might try to rise up on the side of Darkness. Harry knew his place was by his brother's side, to make sure everything was perfectly done, so his brother would be all the more able to defeat the evil people in the world because he won't be have to worry about the small things in his life.

Harry saw out of the corner of his eye the bathroom door open, and immediately knelt beside his brother's bed. By the time the bathroom door was fully open and Edgeworth through the gap, Harry was kneeling by the bed, the room ready for sleeping and the candles in the room extinguished barring one by each of the boys' beds. Harry felt more than saw his brother's gaze sweep over him and the room before he climbed into the bed. "There. Now." Harry didn't even need to look at Edgeworth to know that he was pointing at the small space between the bed and the wall. Harry stood, barely noticing the dull throbbing in his knees from his hour of waiting, and walked around to the end of the bed. He slid carefully between the gap between the end of the footboard and the wall and lay down in the space his brother had allowed him. The cold from the unheated floor, and the wall which was an external wall and was always going to colder than in an internal wall was easy to dismiss when you really couldn't feel cold anyway. Harry surmised that it came from hours spent outside when it was snowing or pouring with rain. You tended to gain a little more resistance to the cold when you did that. But it was by far a lot better than he could have hoped for. It wouldn't have been unreasonable that Edgeworth desire that Harry sleep outside on the window ledge. Having seen it when he opened the window, Harry was actually really grateful that Edgeworth hadn't deemed it necessary. The stone ledge was barely a foot wide and the only thing between Harry and the ground was a terrifying hundred and fifty foot drop was a whole lot of air. Because Harry had no innate magic to perform accidental magic to save himself....the only thing he could hope for was landing in a soft patch of grass to lower his chances of dying on impact.

Harry drew his knees up to his chest as he thought of what he could do here. But before he could think any further on the matter, Edgeworth leant over the bed and grabbed his shirt collar. Pulling on it, he drew Harry closer to him, "I want to make something clear to you. I never ever want to hear you talking to anyone without my permission again, do you hear? If they ask you a question, you just say "I can't answer....". You never ever say anything to anyone other than my family. You'll serve these four boys as well you serve me, if they ask it of you and you do not object even if they ask you to service them. You will have more than one master at Hogwarts but I am your overmaster. I do not brook such insubordination like you showed tonight." Shaking Harry by the collar again he carried on, "I have to meet Dumbledore every two days, so I want you to kneel outside the gargoyle ready for me. You won't move even if Voldemort himself asked you too. Now kneel and say your vows..."

"I swear to be good to my family and to my brother. I swear to be loyal to him. I swear to give up anything I can to help him, to give him the best chance at anything he needs. I swear to give up my life if it is necessary, to preserve his. I swear to follow him, to be a loyal servant and to anticipate his needs and desires. I swear to protect him to the best of my meagre ability. I swear to not stand in his way when he is pursuing something. I swear never to steal his rightful place or possessions. I swear never to fall in love, nor father a child. I swear never to leave him, in this life or the next."

"Good." Now for the next part of the vows, "Will you ever leave me?"

"Not for the flesh, nor for money nor for magic nor position." The next was a part Harry knew well but hated all the same.

"Will you ever fall in love or have a child?"

"Not if I was tempted by the Morrigan. My loyalty to my brother is the only love I shall need, the only thing I shall nurture as if it were a child." To give up the chance to have a child was something Harry hated. But he knew the child would only get in the way of Harry's serving his brother and so it was done.

"Will you ever steal from me?" Edgeworth's eyes burned just like James's, the spark of something Harry couldn't put a name to was just the same in Edgeworth's chocolate brown as in James's hazel.

Harry answered the questions, with the conviction he knew he should have. He was a dedicated and loyal servant of his brother, and he should follow the vows to the letter. And he intended to...

Edgeworth's voice shook as he asked the last question, as though he were overcome by emotion. "Do you swear to be good to me?"

"In speech and in thought, in mannerisms and act I will be good to you."

Edgeworth let go of his collar and rolled over but Harry remained kneeling on the floor. He wondered idly on how he would manage serving five masters plus if the rest of the Potter siblings wanted anything, he would be required to serve them as well. He would be lucky if he slept at all after tonight...But still. His brother required it of him so he would do so. It was the way it had to be...

Down in the bowels of the castle, another meeting was just beginning. The two people were both traversing the corridors, heading closer and closer to their destination....

* * *

_Hey, it's just me, reposting on here. I'm trying lots of different styles with this one, so be aware of that. Ummm...Next few chapters should be up soon, but this version will be about two chapters behind the one of so I can have a bit of lee way to consider it. If you know me from Aff, then HI! and I'll be happy to take your reviews or compliments, or even constructive critisism as fast as you can dish 'em out. These next few parts of the fic will be identical to the one on Aff but the later, darker ones will be edited as I do not need to kicked off this site~ so all NC-17 parts and higher will be edited out. Unfortunatly...The complete chapters will be posted on my account and you can find all the pr0n there that you could want, (or that my muse will allow me to write for you). Catch you later! Merci, and out!  
_

_If I don't know you, then again, HI! and welcome to the wonderful world of Brother, Slave, Pet, that has haunted my mind since day dot. It is a dark fic, (take a look at some of those warnings) but I'm going to try and make it as plot-logical and not so much a PWP. Aside from the fact that PWP here might get me kicked off, I like to try and add some good old-fashioned boy on boy, but also character development, background, scene setting, people not having sex, times when people are in bed and not having any other form of intimate contact like that, and some angst as well, as well as a chance for some happy. Which in my view is not always conducive to a PWP. However, this is still an M fic, so it will cover sensitive topics. Ermm....As for the rest, well, who gives a damn? Read if you like, don't if you don't, comment if you find something wrong and just play nice._

_Review if you like, and I'll see you guys next chapter~!_

_Love ya!_

_**SSS~ **  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_**My word, this chapter ran away from me a bit... Oh, well... Comment is on the bottom and review replies will be on the next chapter...**_

* * *

_**Chapter Two **_

_**Brother, Slave, Pet  
**_

It was snowing, Draco noted idly as he wandered down the stairs, his hands outstretched he just managed to reach the walls on both sides. The windows were icy to the touch and the snow was already piling up outside. The castle was now nearly enough empty, only a few choosing to remain behind during the holidays. Just a few Slytherins stayed; a couple of Ravenclaws and one sole Hufflepuff. Christmas was after all a family time but Draco's parents were off on a world-wide six month tour and couldn't come back for him. He didn't mind. The Caribbean was not his idea of a good place to spend nine days of his life; for one thing it was supposed to be absolutely blistering out there and Draco had very pale skin. He burnt easily and _refused_ to tan... He had no desire to wander around looking like an overcooked lobster for his Christmas. Therefore Draco Malfoy elected to remain at Hogwarts for his Christmas holidays.

Using a nearby chest as a step, Draco climbed onto the wide window ledge and surveyed the grounds of Hogwarts. For five full years he had known these grounds and this was his sixth year, already nearly a quarter gone. Christmas was in three weeks and he was looking forward to it. Despite being told he would have to remain at Hogwarts, he didn't mind. He was celebrating it with several members of his family anyway; his godfather and uncle in all but blood Severus Snape would be celebrating (albeit unwillingly) along with Draco's best and longest standing friend Blaise Zambini. Pansy Parkinson, his sisterly best friend with whom he had _no_ romantic interest, regardless of the gossip surrounding them, would be there as well, plus the boys whom he had shared a dorm with for the last five and a quarter years; Theodore Nott and Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. It would be, to put none to fine a point on it, quite a ragtag bunch. However, it promised to be interesting and that was after all in the spirit of Christmas.

Mentally ticking off a check list, Draco tried to remember his plans for this Christmas, making sure he had done everything. A Malfoy may not like to make a big song and dance over most things, but_ by Merlin_ if they had to then they went all out to make it work! He had bought presents for everyone on his last trip to Hogsmede; he had snuck in some fire whiskey for later if they were lucky and he had also made sure the Slytherin Christmas tree was decked out in the right kind of decorations. None of this cheap and tacky_ 'sentimental' crap_ the other houses seemed to think was fine. No, the Slytherin tree was Silver and Blue with delicate ornaments and was in the words of Draco himself, "_A Masterpiece of superior Slytherin design_." Severus had thrown a bunch of holly at him and promptly ruined Draco's masterly speech on expounding the benefits of careful colour co-ordination.

Looking down at the outside steps, he was surprised to see a black smudge on the pristine white snow. A shout diverted his attention for a moment and suddenly he understood the black smudge. Near the lake, the Gryffindors were having a snowball fight; the shrieks and shouts drifting on the cool wind. His attention wasn't on the snowball fight. He could care less about that. No he was more interested in something closer to him. That which was taking up his attention, was the boy who had captured Draco's attention for years, taking up a large portion of his dreams in both innocent and not _quite_ so innocent ways; the Gift of the Boy-Who-Lived, Edgeworth fucking Potter who treated his Gift with enough brutality as to render the now deceased Dark Lord seemingly harmless; and also the person who haunted Draco's dreams much to his intense embarrassment when his friends commented on his fascination with the boy.

Although...they admitted amongst themselves they couldn't blame Draco for his fascination. When Draco had first seen him, the younger boy had been short, skinny to the point of starvation and dreadfully pale with huge dark rings under his eyes, with a mass of shaggy hair. Over the intervening years, that height had not increased much, from a measly four foot something, to a not very stunning five foot three. But nobody could envision the boy any taller; his weight was so slight he couldn't be any taller. He was still anorexic-ly thin, every bone showing but Draco knew, if someone fed him every once in a while and the boy got some decent rest he would still be thin, but a slender sort of thin, rather than the 'I've been starved for the better part of fifteen years' that the Gift currently held. He would be all slender waist and an hourglass kind of figure, soft but masculine at the same time with just a hint of femininity about him. Not too much though, that would be just wrong. Just a brief hint...Draco also knew, having seen only on a few select occasions that the Gift's eyes were not the brown of his master-slash-ex-brother but a deep vibrant emerald green that were to be blunt...absolutely _stunningly_ beautiful. Most of the Slytherins had seen them, and all who had concurred. They were a stunning pair of peepers and on a well fed and well-treated Gift they could be so pretty. So elegant. Unfortunately for Draco, the Gift was ill fed and ill treated, leaving those gorgeous green eyes on a boy who could be so beautiful but failed to live up that potential because of his master. That hair..._ooh_ along with half the Slytherin girls, Draco longed to take a pair of scissors and a brush to that head of tangled black hair. Black as night it was, with all the impenetrable-ness of it too.

With the right clothes, the right food, the right skills Draco knew that boy could be one of the most beautiful in the whole school if not further a field as well. It was unfortunate the boy was not his, because at the moment the Gift was a tangled mess with only potential to hand.

Climbing down from his seat on the window ledge, Draco made his way along the corridor, down the steps and into the Entrance Hall. He cast a warming charm on himself and a Stay-Dry charm and opened the door to the outside world. The wind blew him backwards but he persevered and stepped through, and closed it softly behind himself. The muffled thud, though, was enough to alert the boy, Draco had been contemplating for the last ten minutes and those emerald green eyes met his for the tiniest of moments. All too soon though, they were turned away and Draco lost sight of them under the messy black hair. He sat behind the boy; leaving a good foot and a half gap between himself and the other...He knew from experience that this was as close as he could get to the boy without alerting the Master to his presence. And as much as Draco loved a good fight, he didn't enjoy them enough to engage in them every ten minutes.

"Hey..." Draco tentatively started a conversation. Or at least, as much as a conversation could ever exist between them. Draco was too careful not to get Harry in trouble by talking about topics which would alert the Master and the Gift was too unsure and timid to even being holding a conversation. Probably too scared of punishment...Over the years, Draco had conducted a few of these conversations, 'illegal' though they were according to the Boy-Who-Lived. Only enough to be counted on one hand but enough to garner a few facts...Like how the 'Gift' was uncomfortable in his position – and how Draco might be accepted if he got the boy out from underneath that Bastard's control...

"I'm sorry! I'll move...I know I'm not meant to be-" the younger boy's voice was too hoarse sounding to be normal but Draco merely attributed it to cold and fear. The fingers of the other boy were tinged with blue and no doubt the rest of his body was not far behind but everyone knew the boy lived in fear of his punishments. Edgeworth Potter was legendary for his cruelty when it came to his Gift. When it came to punishment, the phrase 'anything goes' really came into play.

"_Shush_...It's alright...I just want to talk..." His friends would be surprised Draco reflected, about how gentle he could sound, rather Draco's comparatively bold and really rather loud normal voice. "Don't turn around..." He warned the boy, who immediately snapped around again to face the snowball fight.

"I'm not supposed to talk to anybody without Master Edgeworth's permission..."

"Harry..._I_ can call you that can't I?" Draco carried on without waiting for an answer. "I just want to ask you one question...alright? And then I'll go for now. I promise. Is that okay?"

"Of...of course...." Harry's voice stuttered over the words but they were the ones he wanted to hear none-the-less.

He chose his words carefully, knowing if he stuffed this he may as well not bother to try again... "If I could offer you a way out of being your brother's Gift would you take it?"

_"What?"_

"Don't turn around! If I offer you a way out of being your brother's slave would you accept that help?" Draco waited for a moment, composing his thoughts before he continued. "If I could get you out of it, completely legally, what would you do?"

"I would...ask what would happen to me." And that was the response Draco was looking for. Over the years the answer had changed, from "I won't serve under anyone else but Edgeworth! I serve only him!" to "I would not. It would shame him." And then extending into, "Why would you ask me? I am a Gift." And now into a tentative, cautious almost acceptance. Given the nature of Edgeworth's treatment of the younger boy, and said boy's fear of being found to have talking to a Slytherin, and about escape none the less, it was about as close to a flat out acceptance Draco would ever get.

"Would you willingly serve under me? If I swore to look after you better than your brother?"

"You can't. I am his slave until the day I die. I would accept but I cannot. I am bound to him all my life. It is not my choice but his. I must accept his decision." The tinge of hopelessness was really pulling at Draco's heartstrings, frozen and cold though they were.

"But if it were up to _you_?" Draco prayed silently in his mind. Please, please let him accept.

"Then I would accept." Draco nearly fell off his seat. He had not expected such bluntness from the boy, who had danced around the subject for as long as Draco had been asking about it – at least four years – possibly longer.

Schooling his face back under control, Draco heard the sounds of the snowball fight start to fade and he knew it was time. Giving one last response, "**_Good_**." Draco stood, stretched and left without a backwards glance. He would have stayed longer but the longer he stayed the greater the chances of being found by Harry's master. Who by coincidence was mighty possessive of his Gift and would try at every opportunity to prevent people from going within three feet of the boy. Draco might like to fight, and he fancied his chances in a one-on-one fight but he did not fancy his chances in a fight between him and every un-enslaved member of the Potter family. He wasn't stupid enough to take them all on. Especially since the whole family, including those who had graduated had remained in the castle under Dumbledore's ruling and it was all the siblings of the Boy-Who-Lived playing out there in the snow. Wandering around trying to decide where to go, Draco looked inside the Great Hall as he passed, noting the presence of several other Gryffindors; Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom in one group, with the Weasley family in another. Like the Potter family, they were all staying at the castle, from parents to youngest daughter.

Spotting his friends sitting in front of the many fireplaces, Draco made his way over to them. Blaise waved to him as he came over and Pansy moved her feet off of an armchair so he could sit down. "Where've you been?" She asked, her hands already back to plaiting Blaise's hair. He didn't even notice, Draco laughed to himself.

"Just talked to the Gift." Draco stripped off his outer robes and removed the heating and stay dry charms. It was absolutely boiling by the fire, he thought. Leaning back in his chair, he continued. "And I think I know a way of getting him out from under that_ bastard's_ control for good."

Everyone sat up, Pansy dropped Blaise's hair, Theodore woke up from his doze, Crabbe and Goyle stopped playing chess and Severus, who was sitting at the desk by the chess table, withdrew his head from the book he was reading. "I see. And how to do you plan to do this feat?" Raising an eyebrow, Severus continued, "I mean, are you sure you can do it? Have you even spoken to the boy himself?"

"Yes _actually_ Uncle Sev, I have. And he said yes." Draco refrained from adding in just exactly the conversation had entailed but judging by his uncle's expression he knew Draco hadn't told the whole truth.

"Right. And have you read this by any chance?" Draco caught the piece of parchment thrown at him.

"Again, yes I have. And I've worked out a completely above-board and fair and legal way of getting him out that circumvents the Law of Slavery enacted in 1844." He waved the parchment. "It is unethical but by no means is it illegal."

"But have you read this?" A new voice came from behind Draco, but he was more concerned with the large tome dropped onto his stomach.

"Oof!" Not especially eloquent but what else was there to say? "What the hell are you doing, Thomas?"

"It's Dean actually and we overheard your conversation. It's not exactly a discreet place to hold one, if you didn't know."

"I've said it once and I'll say it again. What the hell are you doing?" Draco lifted the tome up, and was privately glad that the dark coloured boy hadn't dropped it a little further south. He might have found himself lacking in certain areas if the other boy had.

"We heard you talking about Harry, and we thought you might be plotting. Lo and behold you were. Sorry, Professor Snape." Finnegan nodded to Severus who inclined his head.

"We thought you m-might be able to h-help him..." Longbottom's voice might be stuttered but his words peaked Draco's interest. And by the look on the other Slytherin's faces, theirs too.

"What's this then?" He pointed at the book.

"Try chapter seventeen. It'll make you hurl." Dean told him.

Raising an eyebrow at such a cryptic warning, Draco turned the pages to the required page and just as quickly slammed the book shut again. "Where did you get this?!" He demanded as his mind fought to forget the images he had seen in his brief glimpse.

"My gran had it in her library. I b-borrowed it." Longbottom frowned at it. "It's called Slavery and Gifts. Start from the b-beginning. It'll help you understand Harry."

Draco eyed the boy distrustfully but opened it anyway...

Two hours later, he was still reading, practically taken root in the chair he was sitting in. Pansy and the others were just sitting around, though the chess table now had a Gryffindor .v. Slytherin tournament but nobody left the area where Draco sat reading. Not even Severus left, though he complained every so often about how he had to leave to mark papers. Nobody would go anywhere while Draco was so engrossed. It was an unspoken rule that Draco had first dibs on all things to do with the Gift and he had no intentions of letting that drift as off now. He had just found an interesting bit on procreation and ignored the restless people around him.

_"Slaves have been used for centuries to bear the children of their Masters. Male Gifts have, during the ritual to make them as such, a spell or enchantment placed in the abdominal cavity which lies dormant for as long as the Owner of the slave wishes it. Some slaves never have it awoken, others have it awoken almost as soon as the Ritual is over. It is a spell for the creation of female-like internal and if desired external genitalia, which is usually situated just behind the male external genitalia. If no external female genitalia is desired the opening to the faux 'womb' is located inside the rectal cavity. The Gift does carry 'eggs' when the spell is enacted which are the same as female eggs (i.e. they contain the genetic material of the Gift) and just as in a female these can be fertilised to be used for procreation."_

"Interesting," Draco noted as he continued on.

_ "This is most commonly used when there is a relationship established but for a variety of reasons, the bearer of the offspring is unable to carry the child to term or unable to conceive, or is reluctant to experience pregnancy or childbirth through personal choice, medical reasons or cosmetic reasons. Therefore the slave becomes a viable option." _

_ "A pregnancy lasts between nine and twelve months, dependant on the physical fitness of the Gift and the magic growth rate of the offspring. Some male Gifts during this time grow breasts, and begin lactation, usually around seven to eight months into the pregnancy. The spell for the female genitalia may include breasts or not, based on the more magic the Gift has, the less likely he is to grow breasts. The product of lactation is a liquid, high in nutrients needed for offspring, antibodies to aid the fighting of illnesses and disease, and other ingredients. Lactation will usually last from about three months after birth to up to three years. Pregnancy after the first offspring, prolonged breast feeding and high stress levels will all prolong the amount of time lactation occurs." _

Draco looked at the diagrams and winced. Pregnancy and labour looked very...painful. Reading paragraph below, he found that the book confirmed that pregnancy and labour was indeed an incredibly painful process.

_ "Due to the fact the male Gifts, despite the spell to create female genitalia, do not have much of the rest of the 'equipment' to handle pregnancy and the birthing process, problems and complications can arise. Most male Gifts do not posses wide or board hips with a large space in the centre where the offspring would rest during much of the pregnancy, whereas in a female, there would be. They do not have highly developed pelvic floor muscles nor the vaginal muscles used to help push the baby down the vagina during the labour process. They do not have naturally flexible abdominal muscles and they do not have a process of allowing the abdominal cavity organs to move to allow for an expanding womb. _

_ "Because of this, the offspring and womb is situated much further back on the hips and will, during the pregnancy, put constant pressure on the bones of the pelvis. The further the progression into the pregnancy the more pain is likely to be felt. It is said to be so incredibly painful on the pelvis, it has the capacity rendering some Gifts unable to walk due to adverse or extreme pain. The back of some Gifts, particularly those with a large or multiple numbers of offspring may be become painful due to the abnormal front carriage of extra weight. The ankles, knees and hip joints may become swollen or inflamed due to the extra weight being carried and may advance so far as to render the Gift unable to walk during and immediately after the pregnancy. The organs in the chest and abdominal cavity will be pushed aside by the growing womb and again may cause pain and discomfort during the pregnancy, putting internal pressure on the heart and lungs." _

_ "Most Gifts during this time do not receive the proper vitamins and minerals from ingested food as the offspring will consume ninety percent of them. The Spell to create the female genitalia and the ability to bear children does not distinguish between food necessary for the Gift to live and the food necessary for the offspring to live. Most of the nutrients will go to the developing offspring, leaving the Gift tired, drained and with a continual loss of weight. It is not uncommon for a male Gift to lose up to half their body weight during a pregnancy. This is most prominent during the last two to four months of pregnancy, where the weight loss is both quickest and most dramatic. " _

Draco felt a tickle at the back of his mind, as he read, but ignored it. He wasn't interested in anything except what was in front of him. Which just happened to be the book of hellish exploits in his lap.

_ "After this point the Gift is ready to return to duties in all but sexual matters though within twelve minutes to forty-eight hours after labour completes these will also become permissible. If the Gift has grown breasts and is capable of lactation, then it is as advisable to allow the child to feed from here, at least for the first two to eight times due to the fact the lactation excretions do contain as said above high levels of nutrients needed for offspring, antibodies to aid the fighting of illnesses and disease, and other ingredients." _

The only thing Draco could think to say to that was "That baby is a greedy little bugger..." He scanned down the page, and found the last section.

_ "During the first two parts and after childbirth, a Gift may continue to perform tasks and chores around the clock. Sleep is not a priority as the offspring is primarily fed off the magic from the spell. Although pain may occur, any and all chores are acceptable for the Gift to perform including those of sexual natures or manual labour. The choice is up to the Owner as to how many, how often and exactly what duties are performed." _

Considering the last paragraph, Draco thought about it. "Uncle Severus?" When the man looked up from the chess game he was studying, Draco continued, "After my mother had me, how long was it before she was up and out of bed?"

"...Two weeks, and it was five before she felt well enough to go out in public..." The man asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"Could she have really got up and done things like manual labour after about four hours?" Draco asked, dismissing the other question.

"_Absolutely not_. She couldn't walk for three days without extreme pain. Why?"

"Harry would be..."

"What? _Oh_...."

Draco carried on reading the next chapter, a list of what a male Gift could expect to have done to them...Much of it was fairly normal or at least uninteresting, until Draco reached the section on teenage years.

_ "A male Gift can expect to be placed in a chastity belt from the age of twelve. This traditionally should encase the male genitalia and cover the anal sphincter to prevent sexual activity. It is put in place by the age of twelve, to allow the Gift to become used to it. It also prevents masturbation and stimulation of a sexual nature. Sexual activity is of an Owner's prerogative and should not be initiated or committed without their permission. It is traditionally a locked mechanism, though the choice of materials is varied and wide spread. Some include leather, iron, steel, and on a few occasions wood. Some are designed to be discreet; others to show through clothing." _

Draco frowned, trying to recall if he had seen anything like the chastity belt through the boy's clothing. Much to his annoyance, he thought he could but he couldn't swear to it...Damn it! He hated being unsure...Marking it as another thing to ask the Gryffindors next to him, he carried on.

_ "A male Gift can expect to have all hair removed from the body baring the eyebrows and hair on top of the head at the age fourteen. This is permanent, and is so done because then the Owner can view their Gift without obstruction. Hair removed includes the chest hair; hair from arms and legs; hair from armpits; hair from the pubic area and any other found on the body. A beard might be left to grow, or may be removed like the rest of the hair. Hair from the top of the head may be removed as well, though this is frowned upon because it does not reflect good practise of the Owner. The hair is removed through a potion and is traditionally administered sometime during the fourteenth year of the Gift, or in the cases of adults Gifted, within eight weeks of having the Ritual completed." _

Draco rolled his eyes as he read on. Well, most purebloods did the same. Hairy legs were unpleasant, and hairy chests were even more so. Beards were a matter of preference and Draco did not have a preference for them. Hence why he did not grow one. Blaise however, preferred a little stubble and therefore grew some. Draco thought it was okay on some people but on his little Harry it wouldn't be okay. It would wrong...Turning the next page, Draco nearly dropped the book in shock. The diagrams were...vivid in their detail of the exact procedure. Reading the paragraph Draco felt sick. And angry. And confused.

_ "Some Gifts are chosen specifically for breeding purposes and do not require the use of male genitalia. The act of removing the penis, testes including the scrotal sac is considered to be a matter of both practicality and aesthetical reasoning. Unwanted sexual stimulation, a dislike for the male genitalia or a matter of removing a source that could be infected or allow disease to spread all are reasons to remove them. Also this way removes the capability for the male Gift to get someone else pregnant or have intercourse." _

_ "To remove them, the Gift has a small tube, placed on the perineum, which leads to the bladder. This will act as the outport for urine, and doesn't allow for any stimulation for anything other than pain. This process should be performed at least six weeks before the removal of the genitalia. Any later and it could prove disastrous for the spell, for the tube will not set in place and may cause infection to set in. Because the tub is both external and internal, this is not advisable." _

_ "After the tube is place, a simple cutting spell will suffice to remove the penis and testes, which should just fall away. During this time, the prostate gland, found in the rectum is usually burnt, traditionally with a hot poker, now more often with a wand and burning spell. It is said to be excruciatingly painful, so some Owners may choose to have their Gift restrained to prevent undue injury. No sedative is necessary at this point, and should there be blood loss of an excessive degree, a Healer should be called. However, blood loss should be small if the spell to smooth over the skin is performed quickly, within four to eight minutes of the cutting spell. _

_ "Within four to six minutes of the skin being smoothed over, the Gift should be able to function with only a medium amount of pain, and within twenty minutes, sexual intercourse is acceptable. Should there be any pain further, after about a week, a Healer should be consulted, as a safety precaution. Some Gifts never loose the feeling of pain, and indeed in others it has been described as 'crippling' but others report little to no pain and continue on as before." _

"Are they serious in this book?" Draco demanded, peering at Neville who was secreted by the side of the fire half in shadow. "About...the removal...of the...Yeah?"

"Deadly. I heard Edgeworth's older brothers talking about it. Apparently they want it done some time after Christmas."

"The tube's already in." Seamus chimed in, lifting his head from where he was listen to Severus describe a difficult move and staring at the chess board.

"And just how would you happen to know that?" Draco's face was getting more and angrier by the moment.

"What do you think Edgeworth Potter and his brothers couldn't stop bragging about? All _flipping_ day since the October half term. They apparently did it themselves." Dean said, his expression sour like he was recalling eating a lemon.

"I pity Harry because Edgeworth Potter couldn't hit a target if it was as big as his ego – the size and a half again of a Hippogriff and still growing though it is." Severus threw out the remark before taking Dean's queen and ending the game. "Never mind putting something as small as that in a place like that."

"True." Seamus showed no signs of regretting making the remark. Draco flicked through the book, skipping the sections with no substance. Turning the one of the first chapters, he found a much more...dark and dare he say...macabre.

_ "Once a Gift becomes too old, too ill, too weak or just unfit for purpose e.g. is unable to sustain a pregnancy any more, there are several things that can be done with them." _

_ "Some Owners prefer to sell or pass their Gift on, to either family or friends or to outside members of the public. The Gift will most like be put to work – usually though to manual labour. Others choose to send them to places of work like a brothel or mine while still under their original ownership." _

_ "Most choose however a less permanent choice; in that they decide the Gift is no longer productive to the family or the Owner and remove them. _

_ "Several methods of killing the Gift are popular, though the tradition still stands that it should be in the country of the Owner's origin. The methods include both active and passive involvement from the Owner, and vary from method to method. _"

Draco looked down the list and winced as he read them. From death by werewolves, to drowning, abandonment, they were all graphically described with examples given and diagrams and pictures to boot. He read the last paragraph with a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach...

_ "A fourth method of death, usually considered excessively cruel is that act of demanding suicide. Hanging, slitting the throat, drinking poison, throwing off a building, and suffocation are commonly used on Gifts who failed so monumentally in their duties to their Owners that death is required as repayment or absolvement. Death is relative as the method used, but no longer than twenty four hours in the case of most. _

_ "Other methods of killing are common, but they vary from Family to Family and preference to preference. Some suggest bleeding your slave to death, others suggest torture, other's starvation, exposure to lethal temperatures, abandonment or purely allowing the slave to live to old age. The Killing Curse is considered both merciful and a soft option to many, though for the most dedicated Gift it is acceptable." _

Quietly closing the book, Draco fought the urge to throw up. Once that halted, he opened his eyes and asked Seamus a question. "Why did you give this to me?" Draco was not one to normally choose ignorance over knowledge but he knew of several things he had just read he could do without. _Quite_ happily.

"Because, Malfoy my friend, if you want to rescue Harry, who by the way is no longer called Harry due to his brother's striking him from the naming register last summer, you are going to have to know what Harry went through." Seamus looked Draco dead in eye as he spoke.

"I see." Draco leant back in his chair. "How much do you know about Harry, in relation to this book I mean?" He tapped it to emphasise his point.

Dean and Seamus shared a look with Neville but before they could answer, two arms slung themselves over his shoulders, Blaise acquired someone on the end of the couch he was reclining on and Severus found the chair next to him filled by yet another person. And Pansy was joined by someone on her hearth rug.

"So sorry to bother you-"

"-but we couldn't help but overhear-"

"-what you happened to be plotting-"

"-about the Brat's Slave."

Fred and George Weasley were perched on either arm of Draco's chair, staring down at him with a look of intent so rare on their faces. Or indeed any Gryffindor face. Bill Weasley was perched on the couch, and Charlie Weasley sat beside Severus, looking like he did it every day of the week. Beside Pansy was Percy Weasley, sitting Indian Style, looking defiant and nervous at the same time. Fred and George continued, "We wondered-"

"-if it was possible to join-"

"-your delightful little scheme?"

"And why," Severus drawled, "would you ask that?" He showed no sign of being surprised, though Draco suspected it was the alcohol rather than deliberate intention that made the black haired man so impassive at the arrival of the red-heads. He looked more closely at the two sitting closest and saw that someone, presumably their mother had stitched onto their jumpers a large F on one and a G on the other. One was Fred and the other was George. Two guesses at which was which?

"Because we do not approve of that little snot's ideas or usage of Harry." Charlie Weasley's tone matched his face perfectly. Black as thunder and just as unpleasant.

"No-one else is batting an eye-lid in Gryffindor, except us. And you guys," Bill Weasley waved a hand in the direction of the other Gryffindors, "Mum and Dad...I don't know. I think they've convinced themselves as long as they don't acknowledge it, it'll be alright." He carried on ignoring the "How _Gryffindor_" from Severus. "The Potters are just...demanding of it. They want it to happen. If Harry's being beaten they're happy."

"Again, why are you over here, talking to us?" Theodore spoke up, his expression like Severus's: impassive. "We're , and I quote your brother on this, 'slimy Slytherins, not worth the air we breathe'. Why bother with us?"

"Because I know that's not true. I mean, I dated a Slytherin all the way through Seventh Year." Charlie smirked at their expressions. "What? You're not the only ones who can keep secrets..."

"Ron's a right bloody prat." Percy Weasley rubbed the back of his neck as everyone looked at him but he didn't stop, "He's turned into a right crude, crass imbecile, and he won't see the world unless it's in black and white."

"And besides, I though Slytherins are meant to be secretive and sneaky." George's voice came from above Draco's head as the boy made himself him comfortable on the arm of Draco's chair. "We saw Malfoy sitting outside talking to Harry. And we used these," Draco wrinkled his brow as George pulled a long, fleshy coloured, small rope with what looked like a human ear attacked to the end, out of his pocket.

Fred added in his two Knuts to the conversation. "Extendable ears. You can hear over a huge distance with one of these. And yes, we heard you talking to Harry."

"What did I say?" Draco knew how to play the 'Say' game. He wasn't about to admit something he didn't intend to, by being stupid and not finding out their information first. He could be dropping himself in serious trouble if he was that stupid; possibly even prison time if he played the wrong cards.

The Weasley's all looked at each other before fang in ear, and mini-braided haired Bill spoke up. "You said you wanted to get Harry out from Edgeworth's control. And you'd found a legal way. And Harry said he would accept."

"I see. And why don't you go running to Dumbledore, the Greatest person since Merlin and the Hero of all Gryffindor. Excluding the Boy-Who-Lived of course." Pansy looked nothing like her normal coy self as she stared intently at Percy.

"Because...we don't like him." Draco nearly dropped his glass at that, but Percy kept going. "I mean, Dumbledore's been on for ages about how we should be good and kind to everyone...and when we go to Ord- to meetings, he doesn't mind Edgeworth beating the hell out of Harry. And we know he performed the Rite to make Harry a Gift – Edgeworth won't stop bragging about it, about how he's got the Old Man's support on it." All the Slytherin's looked in amazement at his butchering of the venerated wizard's name. Granted, he had been called worse, much worse, by Slytherins but from a Gryffindor's mouth? Well, it would prove interesting to know what else these people had on the Headmaster. "And Dumbledore..."

"Dumbledore lied to us." Charlie looked down at his hands, "He told us, he'd would have accepted us in whatever house. But in my sixth year, when I told him I could have been a Slytherin because the Hat said so, he never looked at me again. Stopped letting me have anything from home, tried to stop me from going to Hogsmede, tried to get me chucked out – he did it by telling Mum I had tried to rape a girl." He raked his hands through his hair, as he refused to look any of them in the eye. "I never went near her, had never even seen her before. I had to go to court and everything, spent three weeks under house arrest. It was so humiliating, even though it was your dad that kept it under wraps, Malfoy. I couldn't get a job when I left school though, because Dumbledore spread the word around that I'd raped someone. That's why I took the job in Romania. They never believe what Dumbledore says over there."

"...Wow." Theodore looked apologetic, "Why didn't you say that to anyone? That it was Dumbledore's fault."

"Because Mum's only just started to speak to me again. In her books, if Dumbledore said something, then it's true." He rubbed his hands together, almost absently, "Dad was disappointed in me, but I don't think he ever believed it. At least not totally. And only Bill, Percy and Fred and George stuck by me."

"What about the rest of you?" Draco wondered when he could actually catch a break today, to sort out all the information in his head – Evil Dumbledore? Slytherin Weasleys? His whole world was dumped upside down in the last ten minutes.

"He tried to expel me, since I told him in my fourth year I was meant to be a Slytherin. I was only Head Boy and Quidditich captain because McGonagall fought tooth and nail for it. He kept saying I cheated in my exams, saying I lied my way into the Curse Breaking Academy. I didn't but he wouldn't let it go. I had to take Truth Serum and Swear in front of the Board of Governors to get them to believe me. I went to Egypt with Gringotts because the Goblins don't give a damn about Dumbledore. He's been annoying them for years, what with the Gift and Harry business."

"What?"

"In the world of Goblins, you don't give one of your own away. And you don't help Slavery, in a Goblin's world. It's wrong in their books. And because they filed the paperwork on Harry's Rite of becoming a Gift, they know exactly what went down. And they don't like it."

"Interesting." Draco filed away the knowledge for later use. "What about you?" He addressed Percy, who was sitting on the rug still.

"He never found out I was meant to be a Slytherin. After what he had done to my brothers I wasn't stupid enough to tell Dumbledore. He kept inviting me up to his office, giving me tea and lemon drops and having little chats. And he encouraged me to have favouritism. Like, he said if I caught a Slytherin outside after curfew, when I was Head Boy, he said I should dock twice as many points than I would if it was a Gryffindor. And he said I should assign more detentions with the Slytherins. Make them pay for their crimes more. And like, I shouldn't worry about harming them, when I was dealing fights." He rubbed his nose as he spoke, a sure sign of annoyance. "He said he wouldn't get annoyed if a few hexes came from my wand as long as they landed on a Slytherin."

"And did you?" Severus tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Of course not! I wouldn't! I don't believe in that because if you do that, then where's the authority?" Percy scowled. "Where's the sense of right and wrong and where did the morals go? I punished them all equally and fairly, regardless of house."

"Good." Draco could hear the pre-prepared anger seeping out of Severus's voice. The man did not like anyone mistreating his Slytherins.

"What about you, Gred and Forge? Share it with us." Seamus spoke from his seat by the fire.

"We hate Dumbledore. He patronises and acts like we're stupid. He keeps pushing us to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, saying we should be good to him. And he keeps encouraging us to stay at school. Said we could re-do our seventh year if we wanted. Because he thinks, "You boys could be so much smarter...and so much better than you are." We got eight NEWTs each. What more do we need? And then he drops hints about us being near Edgeworth like it's a great and awesome thing and we should be proud to know him." George played with his sleeves as he spoke, the act mindless as his voice became angrier and more sarcastic.

"We also keep being told that we should open up a joke shop, but we don't want to." Fred looked down. "We never told anyone but we never want to do that. We always wanted to do what we wanted and a joke shop is what he and the Ord- the others want."

"What do you want?" Vincent rumbled from beside the fire.

"We want to be..." Fred looked at his brother for help and George came to his rescue.

"Quidditich players. Beaters." He looked around. "And we tried out for the England team, because we thought we had better just have something to say when we tried out for like the regional teams. Just as a laugh. Two weeks later they called us back for another try out. And we got in. Reserve for two games a season but other than that, we're playing all the time. But when Dumbledore found out, he went mad. When he called us to another meeting, he tried to get us to resign or to forget about playing. When we refused and left, he was hopping with rage. But we didn't think anything about it until our coach flooed us at five in the morning, shouting about how we'd tendered our resignations before our contract was up. And we hadn't."

"It was Dumbledore who forged it, but we could never prove it. Luckily, we worked out what was going on before it went through, and we're still on the team." Fred unclenched his fists gingerly.

"Wow. It sounds like you guys have had a rough time of it, under Dumbledore's wing." Dean looked up as Draco smirked, but looked away quickly. Draco however saw it, and turning to the younger Gryffindor's said, "What are your tales of woe about Dumbledore, then?"

Seamus looked up, and licked his lips as he answered, "He's not as bad with us...I think he thinks because we share a dorm with Edgeworth, we love him and worship him. But like, he does the whole talking with you about being unfair to the Slytherins, and him being lenient with the punishment. He says we might not be so badly punished for starting a fight as long as it's with Slytherins. And how we should follow Edgeworth a bit more. And spend more time with him. Make better friend with him and his group. And how we shouldn't talk to Slytherins-"

"Because they might corrupt us..." Dean chuckled without mirth. "He says we might have our minds influenced by you lot. And Edgeworth's the same. He talks all the time about how he's going to kill the Slytherin scum poisoning the world. And how he's going to get rid of them because they're all Death Eaters in training. And cruel and evil and twisted and sick."

"I see. Do you believe it?"

"Hell no! Voldemort was a one off...Most of you are really weird but not cruel. Or evil. Or sick. Or twisted."

"A toast to that!" Blaise commented sarcastically at Dean's comment.

"N-no kind and good person treats people the way E-Edgeworth treats H-Harry." Neville's stammer was worse but he carried on. "And Dumbledore keeps mocking my mum and dad. Ever since they were t-tortured to i-insanity by Death Eaters, Gran says he keeps t-telling people that they were w-weak and f-feeble because they couldn't fight off a whole p-pack of the bastards!" The boy was white faced and kept clenching his fists over and over again by the time he finished. A lot of anger was stored up in there, Draco noted. But amazingly, it was Severus who commented.

"They weren't weak or feeble, Mr Longbottom. They were good and loyal people who were destroyed for their beliefs but fought with pride." Nobody commented on Severus's reassurance, though they all nodded and concurred.

"We hate Dumbledore for all the reasons above, but also because he's just an unfair, biased bastard who thinks the suns shines out of Edgeworth Potter's arse, and because he lies, manipulates and beats you into submission if it goes against his will." Blaise raised his glass in a mocking salute, "To Albus Dumbledore, the World's Worst Slytherin and Dark Lord Wannabe."

All the Slytherin's raised their glasses. But as Draco noted, not a single Gryffindor objected, and all of them looked like they agreed. Wholeheartedly. Making up his mind, Draco decided that he would bring them in on it. After all, they were perfectly placed to help him pull off his plan...

* * *

Mein Gott...that was a lot of words. All 8,198 of them. And a note to anyone who wants to post on this site – HTML sucks. Like so much in life it does. I hate it with a passion! Filling in all the little arrow-letter I-arrow things and all that drives me potty and not in a good way.

Charlie's story comes from a news story, where a man was falsely accused of rape and therefore couldn't get a job, as does Bill's. I know Dumbledore is not this evil in the books but you have to remember, this is a home grown plot and you'll have to just listen it out. And I know a lot of what I said above is technically impossible, but stuff like the castration is taken from the Castrati page on Wikipedia and the page on Eunuchs on wiki as well. So call it creative licensing. And the rest of it will play parts, so I know it's a lot of information, but please, please, don't get annoyed about it. So...

Aside from my whinging, I haven't got a lot to say else...So I suppose the only thing left to say is...

...review and thank you for reading!


	3. Please Read

A message for my readers. Please read this before reviewing "where is the next chapter?"

There won't be any updates on for a while. I'm just going to come out and say it, since I can't stop crying long enough to think of a nice way to put it.

My father died this morning.

And I don't think I can think of updating anything until after the funeral, and that's a while away - there's a coroner's inquest and lots of things to work out, and even then, it might take me awhile to get enough inspiration back.

My father wasn't a great man, and I won't be the first in line to say that he was perfect because he wasn't. But he was my father. And for some reason, I feel really guilty because he's dead. And I don't know why.

Anyway. Sorry. Still crying.

I thank you for all your support, and your kind words that you've given me over my time here, and I am truely grateful.

SnowStormSkies out.


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